


There's Always Maltesers

by chess_ka



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chess_ka/pseuds/chess_ka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is feeling worryingly Not Brilliant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Always Maltesers

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot I wrote ages ago and just discovered!

The sun was peeking through the dull clouds over Fitton when Douglas pulled up at the airfield. Martin's battered van was parked beside Carolyn's car, serving as another reminder that Douglas was late. Not that Douglas cared about _that_ , of course.

There was no sign of either Martin or Carolyn in MJN's portacabin, but the sunken, stained sofa was occupied by an uncharacteristically woebegone Arthur. It was downright unsettling, Douglas thought, the way he was staring into his tea with nary a smile to be seen.

"Morning, Arthur."

"Oh. Morning, Douglas."

"Good lord. What on earth's happened? Did you not get a toy in your cereal?"

"Oh, no. It's nothing, I'm fine. Brilliant. D'you want tea?" He made as though to stand, but Douglas waved at him to stay put, crossing to the kettle perched on the counter-top which stayed obstinately sticky no matter what they did to it.

"I'll make one. Where's your mother?"

"She's in the office with Skipper. She'll probably want to yell at you for being late in a bit."

"Ah, much as I enjoy that part of my day, right now I think we should have a cup of tea and talk about exactly why you look as though your favourite muppet has been brutally killed."

"It's fine, I'll be fine. We'll get up in the air and we'll have fun and everything will be brilliant again." It was strange seeing Arthur _try_ to smile normally.  
"So why is everything not brilliant now?"

"Well, everything's _still_ brilliant, obviously, it's not like Dad's trying to get GERTI again or like the time Snoopadoop got hit by that car, those times were really not brilliant, but sometimes things are a bit less brilliant than other times and-"

"This is one of those rare times?"

"Yeah. A bit." 

"What happened? Presumably something that comes somewhere between 'Quest for Camelot' getting cancelled and your father making an appearance on the Arthurian Scale of Brilliance." Douglas sat on the sofa beside him, mug of tea in hand, and watched him with a mixture of concern and interest.

“Well... you know Pippin?”

“Your latest young lady?” Douglas had a vague recollection of curly blonde hair, an up-turned nose and a too-loud laugh.

“Yeah. Well, we were supposed to go out last night so I went to her house. I was going to surprise her. I had flowers and everything. Proper ones, from a flower shop, not the horrible ones I picked from the garden that turned out to be some kind of vegetable – I mean, I didn't realise vegetables could look like flowers, so I just thought-”

“Arthur. Back on track.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry. Anyway, I went to her house with the proper flowers, and rang the doorbell, and when the door opened I held out the flowers and went, “Surprise!” except it wasn't Pippin at the door. It was some chap with lots of muscles and... not many clothes.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm sorry, Arthur.”

“So am I. She was smashing.”

“Doesn't sound as though she was, in the end.”

“Well, I suppose the other chap was more smashing than me.”

Oh dear. Douglas thought fast – how could he cheer up an Arthur? Arthur was usually the one who did the cheering up. He was terminally cheery, he shouldn't be moping like this. 

“Arthur, all that proves is that Pippin puts more store by muscles than someone actually caring about her. You may be an utter clot, but you're the kind of clot any girl should be happy to go out with.”

Arthur stared at him, wide-eyed. “D'you think so?”

“Naturally I think so. I wouldn't say it otherwise.”

Arthur bit his lip. “Mr Birling said-”

“Mr Birling,” Douglas cut in loudly, “Deliberately locked his wife in the car and then gave away the pearl cufflinks she gave him. Do you really imagine he knows what he's talking about?”

“I s'pose not. So... you really think that girls would like to go out with me still?”

“I don't see why not. You're generous, you're kind, you're interested in people, and you're not a self-absorbed git. You've been going out with the wrong girls, Arthur.”

“Oh, right. Thanks, Douglas.”

“You're very welcome. Now, I think I've got a bag of Maltesers in my car – go and get them.”

“Brilliant! Can we share them with Mum and Skipper?”

“If you insist.”

Arthur beamed, genuinely this time, as he bounced off the sofa. “Thanks, Douglas!”


End file.
